


Ghost

by Nijad



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fareeha has prosthetics, Fluff and Angst, Focus is on pharmercy, Hurt/Comfort, Zarmei is somewhat BG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8912209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nijad/pseuds/Nijad
Summary: Fareeha is shot down, but saved by a mysterious masked sniper. When the figure reveals themselves to be Fareeha's mother Ana, Fareeha and Angela have to deal with both the weight of Fareeha nearly dying, as well as the arrival of Ana and how it can affect their relationship.Part of the Overwatch Big Bang.





	

The world returned to Fareeha Amari slowly, in waves. First, she experienced a sensation of awareness, that she was stirring. Then, the sounds around her started to break through the fluidity of the haze encompassing her, hushed murmurs and the rhythmic beat of a heart monitor cutting through. Her eyes managed to flinch open, first a flutter, then slowly opening fully, the overhead lights blinding at first. She was able to gather she was in a medbay room, laid on a medical bed, surrounded by monitors and generic art decorating the plain white walls. She moved her eyes, taking in the rest of the room, when her gaze fixated on a person’s outline, their proper form still too blurry to tell. Suddenly, her instincts took over, a burst of adrenaline willing her fist to surge forward and strike the figure’s jaw. A familiar sounding grunt filled the room, and Jesse McCree fell from his chair, landing with a solid thud. Fareeha’s senses snapped to reality, and the stiffness hit her like a truck as she leaned over, and her voice was hoarse from disuse when she spoke.

“Jesse? Is that you?”

“That’d be me,” McCree groaned, pushing himself up and rubbing the blooming red mark on his jaw. “I was just watchin’ over ya, makin’ sure you were alright. Hell of a right hook you got there.”

“I’m so sorry, I just-”

“Relax,” McCree said, giving her a reassuring smile. “After what you’ve gone though, I’ll consider myself lucky I ain’t bein’ choked out right now.” He began walking towards the door. “I’ll go get the doc. I reckon she’ll wanna see you, now that you’re awake.”

_ Now that I’m awake? _ Fareeha wondered, as McCree left and shut the door behind him.  _ How long was I out? _ She moved her limbs, all but her left arm feeling stiffer than boards. Her thoughts were interrupted when the door flung open, and Angela came running into the room. She nearly fell onto Fareeha, before taking a seat in McCree’s chair, and wrapping Fareeha in a gentle, but enveloping embrace. Before either of them had even spoken, Angela began to cry softly into Fareeha’s shoulder.

“I… I was so scared…” Angela managed to choke through the sobs. “I thought you were gone…”

_ Gone? _ Fareeha wondered, before the memories began to flood back into her.

*****

A grunt of pain echoed through the small Egyptian village, as the mercenary known as “Reaper” planted his boot in the center of Pharah’s chest, pinning her to the earth. Her rocket jets lay broken underneath her, the Reaper’s shotguns having perforated them to the point of non-functionality. His other foot had been stomped into her right wrist, the crunching of the impact twisting her rocket launcher from her hand. The Reaper’s twin shotguns were leveled at her head, the barrel tips blackened from the fiery discharges of the gun.

“It would seem more than that tattoo is a family tradition, Amari,” Reaper said, his voice distorted and haunting. “You weren’t even on my list, but a kill is a kill.”

Fareeha scoffed, unafraid of the Reaper’s almost cartoonish visage. “One soldier’s life so that a dozen others may live. Our objective was completed. They’ll escape, one life as a sacrifice for saving thousands.”

Reaper laughed, the sound raspy. “You’re too smart to work with them, it seems. They’re all still at their camp, planning how to come rescue you. When they arrive, they’ll find their fallen agent full of holes.” He let out another chuckle. “And I’ll cross some more names off of my list.”

_ No _ , Pharah thought,  _ Angela… _ She thought of a way,  _ any _ way out of her situation. Her firearm was out of reach, and that hand was broken regardless. Her jets were probably never going to work again without being completely replaced.  _ That leaves _ ....

In a final gambit, Pharah raised her left arm, the concussion missile in the forearm aimed at Reaper’s chest. At best, it would render him unconscious, but it was all she had left. However, when she pulled the trigger within her suit, the resulting  _ bang _ was far louder than usual. Rather than a missile launching from her forearm, a cloud of flaming buckshot tore through the armour, flesh, and bone of her left bicep, the limb clanking to the ground as Pharah screamed in pain.

“The last mistake you’ll ever make,” Reaper said, pointing the still-smoking gun between her wincing eyes. Pharah closed her eyes all the way, waiting for the release. It never came. Instead, there was a dull thud as Reaper fell to the side, a syringe sticking out of his neck. She moved her gaze to the new, approaching figure, one in a long, blue cloak, and a mask on their face. A rifle was slung upon her back, and a strange looking handgun was in her left hand. She muttered something about a ‘new dose’ that Pharah couldn’t make out, before walking to her. Pharah weakly tried to speak, but the figure crouched down over her, placing a finger over where her mouth would be, shushing her as she slipped from consciousness.

*****

Fareeha’s mind returned to the present, and to her girlfriend crying in her arms. She placed both her hands on Angela’s shoulders, pulling her back so she could look into her eyes.

“It’s okay,  _ ya amar _ , I’m okay, I’m-” Fareeha froze.  _ I’m okay. _ She thought back to her memory, and how she shouldn’t be feeling her left arm. Her gaze moved toward it, only to see the faint gleam of light reflecting off of metal. She winced, knowing it was what she had wished for in her medical waivers, but it was still something of a shock to see.

“I’m sorry,” Angela said, noticing Fareeha’s gaze. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Angela,” Fareeha said, moving her flesh and blood hand to Angela’s cheek, and using her thumb to wipe some of her tears. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re not, I-”

“-did exactly as you should have,” Fareeha finished. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Three days,” Angela said. “We induced a coma for the surgeries, and you were still out after we lifted it a few hours ago. Everything went well, but I was so worried, I must have sat there all day and night. I had just gotten up to use the restroom, when you woke up.” Angela managed to smile. “Which might have been for the best, considering Jesse’s cracked jawbone.”

“I broke his jaw?” Fareeha said, worry filling her face again.

“He’ll be fine, I’ll put him on biotics,” Angela said. She hugged Fareeha once more, tighter than the last. “I’m just so relieved you’re here.”

Fareeha smiled, leaning down and planting a kiss on Angela’s forehead. “Everyone else?”

“Safe,” Angela said, letting go and sitting back into the chair.

Fareeha looked at her new arm, turning her hand and forearm over to look at it. “How did you get a prosthetic so perfect for me this quickly?”

Angela giggled, making a tinge of red appear on Fareeha’s cheeks. “Torbjörn. We may not see eye to eye on many things, but the man is incredible with his machinery. I gave him measurements, and this arrived in the medical bay less than three hours later.”

“Wow,” Fareeha said, turning back to Angela. “Angela, how… how did I get back here?” she said, thinking back to her memory. “Tell me everything. How did you all find me?”

Angela’s smile dimmed somewhat, her gaze lowering. “We didn’t.”

*****

Fareeha “Pharah” Amari is missing in action.

The remaining members of the strike force sent out to the Temple of Anubis, Winston, McCree, Torbjörn, Genji, and Mercy, sat at their camp, looking at their maps and thinking about what to do. The five of them there were having disagreements on what needed to be done. Winston was completely refusing to venture back to the watchpoint without Fareeha, not wanting to leave a soldier behind. McCree shared his sentiment, particularly because she was an Amari; Overwatch had failed her mother when she was taken out, leaving her for dead. McCree wasn’t about to let that happen to Fareeha as well, even being of half a mind to go out himself.

“And do what?” Torbjörn asked, pointing his clawlike prosthetic at him. “Get yerself killed too? She was shot down by  _ Reaper _ , Jesse.” His tone shifted from agitated to somber. “Going after might just be a big waste of time, or worse, a trap.”

“As much as I loathe to,” Genji said, unflinching from his posture of meditation, “I agree that Pharah may already be dead, and going after her is a dangerous endeavor. The last time we encountered the Reaper, he nearly killed all of us.” The statement brought everyone’s moods down further, at the memory of their failure at the Lijiang Tower. Their attention was turned to the person who now held the deciding vote, Mercy.

Mercy had been silent since McCree had held her back from soaring into the air to try and save Pharah. Everyone knew Angela’s vote was the one that mattered most, for many reasons. However, the biggest reason why was the reason she couldn’t say anything.

It had started simple enough. Winston had noticed a potential strategic synergy between Angela’s Valkyrie Suit and Pharah’s own Raptora System. This had lead to individual training sessions, and to a bond of friendship forming. In turn, this lead to playful banter and flirting, drinking together, and further feelings arising. It had taken a not-so-gentle push from Lena to get the meek doctor to ask Fareeha out, and it had progressed rapidly from there. From evening dinners, to stolen kisses when no one would see, to stolen nights of sleep she hoped no one would hear. It was a well kept secret between them, a wonderful thing they had to make defending the world less heavy on their shoulders. That is, until a lethal combination of Genji’s sake and the recent Halloween party had made the secret slip. Now, it was a fixture of their public lives, and was what was motivating the rest of the team to look at her, waiting for her opinion.

Angela knew she couldn’t say a word. She had no way to voice an opinion now. Ever single fiber of her being, every inch of her vocal cords, every muscle and bone in her jaw was willing her to scream to save her, to arm up and run forth into the town, disregarding all else and going to save her lover, but she knew she couldn’t. She had a conflict of interest. It couldn’t be about saving a soldier, it was saving  _ Fareeha _ . She was putting everyone at risk to save her girlfriend, something she would never be able to live down, not even if everything succeeded. Yet, she had no way to be able to say no, to say leave her to die and move on, the job is done. One death so thousands may live. Even if it were someone she barely knew, she couldn’t leave a fellow operative behind. That went against everything she stood for as a doctor, as an operative, as a _ person _ . 

Fareeha “Pharah” Amari is missing in action. And the woman that loves her is powerless to do anything about it.

Angela felt the stares on her, and finally raised her head to speak. As she opened her mouth, however, it was McCree that spoke up.

“Look alive, gang!” He shouted, drawing his revolver in the blink of an eye. The remainder of the squad followed his gaze out towards the horizon, drawing their own weapons and looking towards the approaching figure. They were thin, with something of a feminine figure, though it was difficult to tell, even as they closed in. Their face was obscured with a hood and mask, hauntingly featureless with only a triangle of blue lights. They were cloaked in a long, blue coat, and what appeared to be a sniper rifle hung underneath their left arm. However, it was what was under their right arm that drew attention. They were dragging a body, which at first was hard to identify. It became clear, however, as she neared the camp, that it was the body of Fareeha Amari, breathing and alive, just merely unconscious. The figure dropped her at the front of the camp, before raising their hands. Angela rushed to her lover’s prone form, her heart sinking at the sight. Her Raptora suit had been messily torn off, leaving small cuts crisscrossing across her arms and torso, but that hardly mattered compared to the two major problems she saw, being her shattered wrist, hastily splinted with two pieces of wood and the strings from Fareeha own shoes, and her amputated left arm, bandaged with the lower half of her shirt, which had been torn off. While the doctor poured over Fareeha, the other agents stood their ground against the masked figure.

“Who the Hell are you, and what’re you doin’ with Pharah?” McCree shouted, his revolver leveled at the figure’s head. 

“Hey,” Torbjörn said, his tone once again reverting to his usual, aggrivated yelling, “I’d recognize that design anywhere! That’s the biotic rifle I designed with Ziegler in the old days! You  _ thief! _ ”

Winston cleared his throat, turning attention toward him somewhat. “My associates have hopefully made it clear we have questions for you, and you have technology that belongs to us. We can resolve this now, or back at Gibraltar.” The figure remained silent, and Winston shook his head. “Your call. McCree, Genji, restrain them. Torbjörn, make preparations. We leave for the Watchpoint at sunrise.”

*****

“Wait,” Fareeha said, thinking back you her own memories, “that figure… they’re the same one I remember incapacitating Reaper. She saved me?”

“She was certainly trying to,” Angela said. “Your veins were full of biotic fluid that had been rapidly injected to keep you alive. Regardless of what they want, they’re the reason you’re alive.”

“Do we know who they are?”

Angela shook her head. “Winston’s been following protocol, meaning we’ve reclaimed their tech, but haven’t done anything else. The only thing they’ve said is a request to see you.”

Fareeha thought back to her memory, and to this figure’s role in her being alive. She sat up, startling Angela somewhat. “Get me some clothes,” she said, her face becoming stalwart. “I think we should grant our captive’s request.’

*****

A change of clothes later, Fareeha sat opposite her ‘savior’, the pale lights on their mask seeming to pierce through the tension. Fareeha was alone in the room with them, her face stern, with Winston and Angela being just outside to quash any fear she had. 

“I’ve been told you asked to see me,” Fareeha said, looking at the masked figure.

“Indeed I have,” the figure said, their voice masked by an audio filter. “I am glad to see that you are alright.”

“I’ll quit dancing around the issue,” Fareeha said. “Who are you? What did you have to gain from saving me?”

The figure pressed a switch on their collar, and their mask slipped up their face, disappearing into their hood. The face underneath made Fareeha, as well as those watching, go wide eyed. Though she looked significantly more aged than the last they’d seen her, and a patch now covered her right eye, there was no mistaking the tender visage of Ana Amari sitting in front of them.

“M-Mother?” Fareeha said, a menagerie of emotions coming over her. “What on Earth… How did you…”

“I had been following this squadron’s activities through interception of Talon’s transmissions,” Ana said. “I’ve been monitoring and ensuring things went as smoothly as they could from the shadows. I knew that when G-,” she paused, having interrupted herself with a cough. “When the Reaper shot you down, I couldn’t play passively anymore. I,” she paused again, looking towards Fareeha’s new prosthetic. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get there faster.”

“Mother, I-” Fareeha began, before being cut off by the door being slammed open.

“Can it be true?” Reinhardt boomed as he entered, ducking under the doorframe. When his eyes fell on Ana, they immediately began to well up. 

“Reinhardt,” Ana said standing from her chair, and stepping back, knowing full well what was coming.

“Oh,” Reinhardt began, as he walked up and wrapped Ana in a goliath’s embrace. “Oh thank God, Ana, you’re alive, oh thank God above,” he said, sniffling through tears borne from grief washed away. Once he let go, Ana saw that McCree and Torbjörn were now standing in the doorway.

“Ma’am, you’re, alive…” Jesse said around the pack of ice pressed against his fractured jaw.

“Yeah,” Torbjörn said before sniffling and wiping his eye. “What’s the big idea, coming back after dying like that?”

“I was afraid you’d get bored, without someone else’s business to stick your nose in,” Ana said, smiling at the engineer.

Torbjörn chuckled and shook his head. “You Amaris are just too stubborn. I wish she’d have gotten yer sense of humour instead!” he said, getting laughter out of everyone in the room.

It wasn’t long before Ana had to make her way to the mess hall, in order to talk with all of the agents at once. Everyone had questions, or comments, or a joke, or merely wanted to see the once again living legend that was Ana Amari. All, it seemed, except Fareeha. She leaned against the back wall, looking at her mother laugh and talk like the old days, with the other old soldiers. She felt nothing but frustration, and, not wanting to make a scene, turned and left the mess hall. She didn’t know where she was headed, but she knew that it couldn’t be here anymore.

*****

Aleksandra Zaryanova walked into the Watchpoint gym around an hour after she noticed Fareeha leave, and heard the telltale sounds of a bench press being utilized; the familiar, rhythmic breaths and grunts, and the subtle rattling of the weights at either end of the barbell. She wasn’t surprised to see Fareeha at the rack, with several hundred kilograms set upon it. Zaryanova stepped over to her, placing her hands on her hips and chuckling.

“Impressive, but you have ways to go until you match my record.”

Fareeha paused, replacing the barbell back upon it’s rack, looking up at Zaryanova. “You’re the newest operative, yes? Aleksandra, I think.”

“Call me Zarya,” She said, taking a seat behind the rack. “You know, it is dangerous to be lifting so much weight when you are without a spotter. You could injure yourself, or at the very least not have someone to witness a new personal best.” She chuckled at her own joke, while Fareeha merely grunted and resumed her bench presses. Zarya’s expression sobered somewhat, looking down at Fareeha. “I noticed you are not with your mother. She was away for some time,  _ da _ ?”

“Something like that,” Fareeha said, her tone dripping with anger. 

Zarya looked around, before sighing. “I know that I am not the best with words, and we may not know each other very well, but if you are wishing to talk about what is wrong, I would not be against listening.”

There was a pause, Fareeha remaining silent for some time as she performed more reps, until finally yielding with a sigh. “Everyone is so happy for my Mother returning. She’s been dead for some time, like Jack, like Gabriel, like so many others. Everyone is so glad to see such a legend return, and by all accounts, I should be too. I mean, she’s my  _ mother _ . But… I already knew.”

“What?” Zarya asked.

“Some time ago, I received a letter from her. She said she was alive, and she was going to keep ‘fighting’, whatever that means.” She scoffed, finishing a set and placing the barbell back upon the rack. “I knew talking to the other operatives, once I was invited to the reformed Overwatch, was a mistake, it would only complicate things. She would keep to her mission in the shadows, and we would operate separately, taking solace in each other’s safety.” She sat up, and took a drink from a bottle of water.

“What was her mission?” Zarya asked out of genuine curiosity.

“Me,” Fareeha said, her voice quiet and cold.

“What?”

“ _ Me! _ ” Fareeha shouted, throwing her bottle across the gym. “Her mission was _ me! _ She watched over me, like I was still a child, for all this time!” She panted in frustration, shaking her head. “I thought that, by joining Overwatch, upholding her legacy, I could perhaps find my way, earn my mother’s respect, but she still thinks of me as a child, as something to be coddled, and protected. Twenty-two years, and nothing has changed!” 

“It may not be my place,” Zarya said, “but why do you not just confront her? You are an adult, you deserve respect. Especially considering your performances as an operative.”

Fareeha opened her mouth to answer, but sighs, shaking her head.

“Something else is bothering you,” Zarya said, earning a glance from Fareeha. “I can feel it.”

Fareeha once again opened her mouth to retort, but sighed instead. “It’s Angela.”

“Ah, your lovely partner, what of her?”

“I.. worry. About these thoughts and our relationship.” Fareeha looked down at the ground. “Angela worked with my mother in the old days, they shared many training sessions and techniques of medicine. She unquestionably holds her in a high regard. How… how can I confront her with these thoughts?”

Zarya merely chuckled. “You love this woman,  _ da _ ?” Fareeha paused, before nodding. “And she loves you?” A longer pause, before an unsure nod. “Then you have nothing to worry about, if you are honest. It will just take some courage to talk to her.” Zarya let out a hearty laugh. “And thankfully, they sell courage in Russia in bottles. Come,” she said, slapping Fareeha’s back. “You’ve earned a glass.”

Fareeha once again hesitated, before smiling and walking out of the gym with the giant woman.

*****

Mei-Ling Zhou was walking to Dr. Ziegler’s office, simply to deliver some paperwork. The two scientists often collaborated on projects, both of their fields of study overlapping nicely to fill certain gaps, and work wonders. Mei knocked on the office door upon arriving, only to find it unlocked, and slightly ajar. She shrugged, figuring that Dr. Ziegler was inside, and that she could merely hand over the file. She pushed the door the rest of the way open, and stepped into the office. 

“Dr. Ziegler, I have those papers for- oh” she said, after looking inside and noticing Angela at her table, looking disdainfully into a glassful of bourbon, the bottle not far away. Mei knew something was wrong immediately, and she walked over and sat next to her. “Angela, what’s wrong?”

Angela jumped, before sighing and looking at Mei. “Oh, Mei, I didn’t realize you were here,” she said, shaking her head. “Nothing’s wrong, thank you.”

“Angela, I know something’s wrong, your hair’s down,” Mei said, glancing at the freely flowing blonde hair. “You only put it down to sleep or if something’s stressing you.”

Angela ran a hand through her freed hair, before sighing, and putting it back up with the tie around her wrist. “You’re right, something is bothering me Mei.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mei asked. 

Angela sighed once more. “It’s about Fareeha. I’m… I’m worried I violated her. That I failed her.”

“Why on Earth would you be worried about that?” Mei asked, her tone incredulous.

“When Fareeha came back, I ran her into surgery immediately,” Angela said, taking another drink. “I knew what she would have wanted. It was protocol, even, to replace an operative’s limbs. She agreed to it in her forms to join Overwatch. If it were anyone else, there wouldn’t have been any hesitation, any worry. Yet, because it was Fareeha, I felt…  _ awful _ . Like I was doing something irreversible without asking her. I felt like I was violating our trust between each other.” She finished her drink, setting the glass down hard enough that Mei feared that it could shatter. “How can she trust me about anything anymore?” She refilled her glass. “And not just about our relationship, about important things, things I would have to do, like procedures, or surgeries, or anything!  How can she be comfortable going under when I hesitate  _ there _ ? What if it happens when there’s not a moment to hesitate?” 

Angela began to raise the glass to her lips, before Mei reached out and held her arm down. “Angela, you need to slow down,” she said, glancing at the bottle that was more than a quarter empty. 

Angela glared at her, but relented, setting the glass down. “I shouldn’t have began a relationship with another agent. In most militaries, it’s taboo. I understand why now. Conflicts of interest.” Angela sighed, her gaze falling to the floor. “She shouldn’t be trusting me with her life.”

Mei shook her head. “Isn’t that what relationships are about?” Angela’s gaze darted to her, and Mei raised her hands. “Wait, maybe not  _ lives _ , but trust?”  She put her arms down with a nervous chuckle. “You know, I went through much of what you are now.”

“Truly?” Angela asked, tilting her head in slight confusion.

“Yes,” Mei said, “when I sponsored Zarya’s entry into Overwatch. The truth is, I’d met her when I was in Moscow for research purposes. I, er, accidentally went into a gay bar my last night for a little drink. I couldn’t read the sign.” 

Angela couldn’t help it, and snorted with laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand.

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s pretty funny,” Mei said, chuckling herself. “I probably should have brought a pocket dictionary. Regardless, it happened to be a soldier’s night, and I ran into a giant woman with pink hair.” She blushed faintly. “I’m sure you can imagine the next few days, but it was mostly long distance after I left, until our mission at Volskaya Industries. We worked with Aleks’ force, and she caught Winston’s eye. One word from me later, and she arrived at the Watchpoint.” Mei smiled at the fond memory, but it quickly faded. “But, I felt kind of… bad. I felt like what I had was a bias, that maybe I had wrangled Aleks into this for my own selfish reasons, instead of thinking of the good of the unit, of the world even. It got bad enough that I had to confront Aleks about it.”

“What did she say?” Angela said, having leaned in to listen more closely.

“She said what I’m sure Fareeha will say to you,” Mei said, “that she trusted me. She trusted me to care about her, but to know when our jobs came first. When our duty to the  _ world _ came first.” Mei put her hand on Angela’s shoulder. “We may not have been together as long as you two, but the solution is the same. Talk to her.”

Angela turned away. “I wish it were that simple, but there’s another problem.”

“What?” Mei asked.

“Ana.” Angela grabbed her glass and brought it halfway up, before shaking her head and setting it back down. “Everyone is ecstatic for her return, but I can’t be. I’m furious with her.”

“Why?” Mei said. “Weren’t you two close?”

“ _ Were _ ,” Angela said, her tone becoming more aggravated. “But, what she has done with my technology is inexcusable. She stole the Biotic Rifle, and went against all of its designs, making it able to harm others. She’s made whatever Hellish fluid is in those grenades of hers with  _ my _ biotic technology.” She shook her head. “I can forgive the lying, and the spying on us. I understand that. I can’t forgive going against  _ everything _ I stand for.” She looked at Mei. “How do I tell Fareeha I hate her mother, when we should be celebrating her.”

Mei smiled. “I hate to sound like a, er, is broken record the saying in English?” Mei asked with a giggle. “Talk to Fareeha. If she’s truly in love with you, she’ll be willing to look at things from your perspective.”

Angela paused, before standing. “Thank you, Mei. For listening.”

Mei stood up as well, placing her hand on Angela’s shoulder. “Anything for a friend. Now, you’ve got someone to talk to.”

Angela nodded, and walked out of the room. Mei turned, spying the glass on the table, and shrugged before taking a drink. The strength of the bourbon made her cough, before looking around, and finishing the drink. “I may have to buy some of that,” she whispered to herself, before chuckling and walking away.

*****

Angela strode confidently down the hall, hoping her demeanor would help her convince herself she wasn’t terrified. Her face was high, and her hands were balled into fists. She had thankfully had the foresight to return to her room and exchange her heels for flats, else the combination of her nerves and the alcohol in her system may fail her when walking on the delicate shoes. She had also cleaned her hair up further, and had shed her lab coat for more casual clothing. She hoped the more casual look would help Fareeha feel more comfortable when they were discussing what… needed to be discussed. Angela sighed, shaking her head as she neared Fareeha’s room. She was stopped dead in her tracks when Fareeha’s door slid open, and Fareeha herself stepped out. She was also in simple clothes with her prosthetic arm exposed, making Angela’s heart skip a beat. Fareeha looked around, her eyes bulging when the landed on Fareeha. Angela swallowed, closing her eyes, before opening them and walking toward Fareeha. Fareeha did the same, the two meeting in the middle of the hall. They both looked at each other, neither wanting to make the first move, until Angela broke the silence.

“How’s the arm treating you?” she asked, fixing her gaze on it so that she didn’t have to look her in the eye.

“Fine,” Fareeha stammered. “I, er, went to the gym to ensure its stability. It can hold as much as the old one. Maybe more, I didn’t compare them.” Fareeha sighed. “I also ran into Zaryanova on that trip, and she gave me some advice,” She placed her hand on Angela’s cheek, prompting her to look up at her lover. “We need to talk.”

Angela held her gaze only for a moment, before breaking away. “I… I’m so sorry for not asking you,” she said, her gaze falling back to the arm. She took the metal limb in her hand, and shut her eyes tight. “It was wrong of me to do it without waking you, without asking you if it was what you wanted.”

“Angela, it’s fine,” Fareeha said.

“It’s not!” Angela said, raising her voice. “If you can’t trust me about procedures like this, how can you trust me at all? What if-”

“Angela,” Fareeha said, her tone becoming stern. “I don’t care. I trust you with my life whenever I’m under the knife. I know you. You’ll make the right call. That’s not what we need to talk about.”

“Y-yes…” Angela said, stumbling over her words. “Mei-Ling told me to talk to you about something else.” She paused. “About Ana.”

Fareeha also paused. “What about her?”

“That…” Angela said, lingering on the word. “That I’m furious with her!” She had balled her fists again, before sighing and releasing them. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been drinking, and I’m so frustrated, and… and…” she sniffled, before putting her arms around Fareeha and pulling her close. “I was so nervous that my anger with her would upset you.”

Fareeha remained silent for a moment, but began to laugh. Angela looked up at her, and Fareeha reciprocated the hug. “That was the same reason I wanted to talk to you. I was afraid that my anger with her would upset you, someone she’d worked so closely with. I let the fear and anger overwhelm me, and I ran away to hide from it. Thank goodness Zaryanova was there to talk me out of my own head.” She looked away from Angela, a sly smile on her face. “And give me some vodka to muster the courage to come talk to you.”

Angela chuckled. “I didn’t need Mei for that, but she did stop me from drinking an entire bottle of bourbon by myself.”

Fareeha chuckled, before bringing Angela up for a quick kiss, leaning into her for only a second before pulling away. “Mei-Ling and Zaryanova,” she said, “how fitting it was those two.”

“We should take them out,” Angela said, “as thanks.”

Fareeha nodded. “First, though, we have someone else to talk to.”

*****

Angela and Fareeha stood outside the guest quarters currently housing Ana. They looked at each other, nodding silently, before Fareeha knocked on the door. A faint “come in” was heard from inside, and Fareeha pressed the button to open the electric door, the pair stepping inside.

The room was sparse, being an unused guest room, only a bed and a small table with a chair decorating it, all in the same gunmetal grey that shaded the Watchpoint  _ en masse _ . In the chair sat Ana Amari, having changed into more comfortable clothing in favour of her war-tattered cloak, and sipping tea from a small porcelain teacup she had produced from somewhere. She set the cup down, turning her singular eye to Angela and Fareeha. “I was wondering when you would pay me a visit, Fareeha,” she said, standing up. “And Dr. Ziegler, so nice of you to visit as well.”

“Ana,” Angela began, before biting her lip and pausing.

“Mother,” Fareeha continued, “ we need to talk.”

“Indeed, I think we do,” Ana said, turning to face the pair fully. She sighed, before continuing. “You must be angry with me, for what I did.”

“Angry… angry isn’t the best word,” Fareeha said. “I was angry, but now I’m simply sad.” She shook her head. “I had hoped that by joining Overwatch, in upholding your legacy, I would make you proud, even in death. When you sent that letter, it drove me to fight harder, to earn your approval and pride in life. But,” Fareeha paused, her fists clenching. “But you still treated me like a child, watching over me from the shadows.” She relaxed her fists, letting out a deep breath. “Please, don’t think I’m not thankful for your saving my life, and for anything else you may have done to aid us. I just wish you had come forward, had thought enough of me to let me know you were protecting me still.”

Ana walked forward, taking her daughter’s hands in her own. “I think the world of you, Fareeha. What you have done, the people you have saved, I could never be more proud a mother than I am now.”

“They why? Why the cloak and dagger? Why the mask?” Fareeha said, tears welling in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were proud?”

Ana’s gaze lowered, her head facing the floor. “You know this was not the life I wanted for you. To see you fighting, it filled me with shame beyond what I thought was possible, that I could not spare you from this fight. I was always proud of you, I just wish…” She drifted off, raising Fareeha’s metal arm high to look at it. “I wish it hadn’t claimed you too. I’m sorry, Fareeha.”

“You didn’t fail me,” Fareeha said. “I knew this world needed help long before you left. I would have fought one way or another. I just wish you had been there for me then.” She pulled her mother into an embrace, finally managing to smile. “I’m glad that you are now.”

Ana smiled, and reciprocated the hug, before backing away, and facing Angela. “I have a feeling I know what you want to talk of.”

Angela nodded. “I… I cannot condone your use of my technology,” she said, unable to keep up an intimidating demeanor like they had planned, after witnessing the display in front of her. “It goes against everything I stand for when you use my Rifle design to harm others.”

Ana looked Angela in the eye. “I understand your words, and feel your pain. I understand the rifle was not meant to do what I have modified it to. However, please, understand that I did what I had to, for the sake of my mission. I could not afford to be loud, and your design helped me with that.”

“But,” Angela said, “filling the biotic needles with  _ poison _ … why?”

Ana shook her head. “What is the phrase in English? Necessity is the mother of invention?” She managed a chuckle. “Again, I am sorry, but I worked with what I was able to scavenge in order to fight Talon. The poison was easy enough to make.” She shook her head again. “What I did was unethical, but now I can remedy it. Perhaps with your help, Dr. Ziegler, we can make my weapons less lethal.”

“You’re going to keep fighting?” Fareeha asked, her voice sounding shocked.

“Fareeha,” Ana said with a soft smile, “what was the phrase I filled your head with as a child?”

“Never stop fighting for what you believe in,” Fareeha dutifully recited.

“Just like you could not stop, I cannot stop. And if I do not,” Ana said, turning back to Angela, “will you help me help people again?”

Angela nodded. “I would be glad to.”

Ana nodded in agreement. “I’m glad you both came to speak to me. There was a large amount of tension between us three, and I’m glad it has been resolved. However,” she said, her smile growing wry, “are you sure there is not something else you two wish to tell me?”

Angela and Fareeha’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean?” Fareeha asked.

“Oh come on, I was not born yesterday,” Ana said, chuckling to herself. “Surely it was not a coincidence you two came in here together.” Her grin widened as the two women in front of her began to redden. “Plus, it’s not exactly secret. I’ve known for months.”

“So,” Fareeha said, her voice small with nervousness, “you approve?”

Ana walked forward, putting her arms around both Fareeha’s and Angela’s shoulders, hugging them both. “You both have lost so much, you both deserve someone in your lives to love you as much as as you love them. It makes my heart swell to see the both of you together, to see you both happy and in love.” 

Angela and Fareeha smiled, reciprocating the hug. “Thank you, mother,” Fareeha said.

“I love you so much, both of you,” Ana said. Her wry grin returned, unbeknownst to the two women in her arms. “Now, which one of you will give birth to my grandchild?”

Fareeha jumped, stumbling from Ana’s hug and sputtering in response. “M-mother!”

Ana laughed at her daughter’s response, and Angela joined in, thankful her stress had passed, and she could think toward her future with this family,  _ her _ family.


End file.
